Reaching Perfection
by Jewel Queen
Summary: "Not so fast Captain," he mocked. "Don't you want to see what I got for you?" "Bucky!" he gasped, almost losing his grip on his shield entirely. "What do you want?" "You. I want your unequivocal loyalty." What if Schmidt found Bucky and decided to take a stab where it will really hurt him-in his heart? How would that change the movie's end...and the world?


**Note at the bottom if you want to read it, I would say yes, but that's me...**

**Warnings/Disclaimer: not mine, no profit, a little bit of language, non-descriptive slash, ****and a little AU considering *spoilerish to some!* Bucky is alive and most likely coming back for another movie.** Also lots of OOC on Bucky's part that can't be completely explained away by near-death experience I'm afraid, but that's the only way the story works. *shrugs* E&R, everybody, please!  


It was dark when he woke up, groaning at the low red lights reminding his head to begin pounding a his skull. He hadn't got drunk enough for a hangover this severe in a long time. What the hell happened?

_Snow. He remembered snow. Lots and lots of snow, icy and slick, biting wind, a fearful chill. It was so high up, so far down, and his fingers were slipping, slipping, slipping._

_"Give me your hand!" Turned to his best friend, his hero, his partner in everything since they first met, now his attempted rescuer's face. So hopeful throwing out cliches. Urge for hysterical laughter. Distance was too great, even for _Captain America_, and his fingers were slipping, slipping, slipping. He couldn't let them both fall. The world needed only one of them; the world did not need him._

_Heart clench. Stare at his face one last time. Be at peace. No regret, no blame. No time for goodbyes, not in the strength of his fingers or the sound of the whirling wind to die down._

_Let go. Close eyes. Falling, falling, falling. His face seen behind eyelids like he was still there slipping, slipping, slipping and Steve and still there reaching, reaching, reaching. Smile. At peace. It is good that his face is the last thing-_

Bucky gasped, blinking to the vision of the same face that he carried with him to his death in peace. Wait...

"You're alive," Steve said, breathless. "You're really _alive_-" His hand came up to him, he saw out of the corner of his eye, but sank bank into his lap. He tried not to feel disappointed. Even the Captain wasn't invincible. Deep down inside of him was Steve Rogers, the boy too afraid to dance. And there was, deep down inside himself, the boy too afraid to ask.

Too afraid to fall.

"But how?" he croaked. Death was not kind to his vocal chords even for the short time it grasped him. "I thought-"

"So did I," his best friend whispered to him. The hand returned again as a blurry shadow of colour and shape, and actually touched him lightly on the cheek.

Bucky gasped again. Warm. So warm and comforting after all that snow. He leaned into the touch, stabilizing it, strengthening it. Steve did not slip away; small miracle.

"Schmidt's blood transfusion put you in suspended animation. Your body was too weak to receive its full benefits, but...had he been only seconds later, there would have been no surviving. _He saved you_, when_ I_ could not,"

The hand dropped now, stinging with shame. Bucky pulled him into a hug; his own version of warm comfort. "I never blamed you. It was not your fault. I _chose_ to let go, I chose to _fall_," he spoke into his ear, repressing a shiver.

Steve wrapped his arms around him and squeezed. A silent 'thank you'. "I owe him," he said mournfully.

Fear and shock. He pulled away and stared into his eyes, studying him. "What did you do?"

"I surrendered."

"Steve!" his heart thundered with questions. Why? How could you? Did you do this to me, or for me?

It appeared boy-wonder could read his thoughts too, now. "I would do anything for you, you know that. I would conquer the world and give it all away if I knew it meant you'd be okay. He promised to take you home safely-"

Two warning knocks. He jumped and Steve took his hands out of reflex, squeezing them. His throat grew tight and heavy. Steve's eyes grew dark and serious. "Listen, Bucky, go home. go home and stay home. Get married, have kids, have a normal job and live life for as long as you can. Go have your chance at being happy. Don't try to rescue me, forget about me, and that's an order,"

Time for the truth. It was their only chance. His eyes watered. "I _can't_," he said brokenly. "Not without _you_,"

Crushing of the lips. Impossible to tell who began and who ended. A mash of warm body frantically moving, pulling, kissing, tugging. He was falling a new fall and his fingers were sliding, sliding, sliding.

Clothes were gone now. Hot breath and bruises covered them; scars of war turning to scars of love. And Steve was so gentle, so sensitive with him like he had always been. He shivered with boiling lusty thoughts and burning greedy memories. He was always there for Steve, his number one protector always and forever.

But this was Steve and not Steve. The buff, tall, bronzed man he was submitting to, crawling backwards and lying down as _he_ crawled forwards and pinned him, was the new Steve. _Bucky's_ number one protector always and forever now.

Exposed. He felt so exposed lying naked and spread under him for his taking. He trembled and Steve hesitated. "Bucky-" he moaned, heartbroken with realization.

"Steve," he interrupted softly, shaking his head. "I _fell_ for you. Please. Just make me warm again,"

And he did. Passionately, furiously, tenderly, lovingly melted the snow inside his soul and evaporated its existence. His body was set aflame. The stars and heavens reached and came down to know _him_ for only a moment, dancing bright in his eyes.

Steve collapsed and curled next to him, super-strength squeezed out of his bones for once, panting. He grasped at the last vestiges of warmth that could be taken from him before his heart had to leave him.

"You're crying," he murmured, watching a wiped-away tear water down his finger.

"I'm alive," Bucky answered quietly. "And my dance partner insists on being dead to me,"

"Bucky, we can't-_I_ can't be a sissy,"

"_Captain America_ can't, but _Steve Rogers_ can and _is_-or have you forgotten all about him already?" he snapped.

"How can I?" he whispered, burying his face into Bucky's shoulder and Bucky felt all of his misplaced anger drain away. "You were always there for me,"

"And I'll still be there for you. By your side, always," he matched the soft intimate tone they were using.

More, insistent knocking. Steve's lips on his forehead tingling all the way to his fingers and toes. "Go home," he whispered secretly.

"But-" How could he, after what they've been through, what they've _shared_? How could Steve expect him to abandon it all just like that?

"Go home, Bucky, and I promise we'll find a way to dance again," His goofy smile. Same old Steve. A familiar curl in response. Same old Bucky.

"I'll hold you to it," he vowed.

Tossing a glance over stepping into his pants. "It's a date," he promised, stealing a kiss before leaving. He shuddered, flopping back, closing his eyes and floating in the promised warmth. He tried to ignore the growing, gnawing numbness that counter-promised bad things.

* * *

It was so odd to step out into the enemy's cockpit-that enough by itself-, adjusting his rumpled appearance self-consciously, and see a bruised Captain America kneeling at Red Skull's feet. His heart squeezed tight and he almost broke out into a run to his side. Steve's stern head-shake stopped him.

Gloved fingers furled slowly in his blonde hair and yanked. Bucky's eyes fluttered to the sounds of Steve's pained gasp. "I see our guest has stirred," Schmidt purred. Digust pooled in his stomach and hating blood shook his entire frame. This man deserved to die for touching his partner like that. "Announce his presence formally to me, Captain,"

"S-Sergeant James Barnes has awakened, my lord," he rasped quietly. Bucky winced, even though he could barely hear it.

"Excellent," he hissed, spinning around in his chair to face him finally. Ugly red-faced bastard. He fought the urge to spit. "Come here, _Bucky_," he ordered and Bucky shivered. His name had been ruined; if it didn't fall from Steve's lips, he never wanted to her it again.

Somehow, he stepped closer to the evil without doing anything to mess up their precarious situation. He even managed to get on one knee and bow. "Your grace," he mumbled out of forced respect, eyes flickering to soft blue ones.

Schmidt laughed and raised him onto his feet. "What remarkable power you have over your followers-or is this one...special?"

Steve looked down, feeling demon eyes appraise him. "He is special, my lord,"

Schmidt smirked. "How generous I am. Our...Fuhrer would not be so kind with you two had he been the one to capture you. Thank me,"

"Thank you, sir," Bucky whispered meekly. The monster _had_ saved his life.

"Thank me, _Captain_," he urged, gripping his jaw. "Your boy-toy already has. Show me some manners. I can easily take back my gift, Captain. You wouldn't want that, would you?"

Steve tensed, grimacing. "Thank you...my lord," he gritted out.

Red Skull flung him away. Bucky replayed the clanging sound of him hitting the metallic floor like he was unable to do anything else. "Go inform your little bugs that they are not to destroy any vessels that leave this aircraft. I won't exercise my godly powers to save him again." he instructed.

"Yes, my lord," he said, crawling over to radio in his order. Bucky's breath caught as he watched him follow to the word and his knees shook. How quickly a man falls under a cruel master. Where was his Captain? The one who was his protector, _America's_ defender.

"Let me escort you out on your way home," Schmidt said, almost pleasantly. Bucky cast a mournful glance back at his oblivious one and sighed. He had no choice. He let himself be carried away without a goodbye. _Betrayer!_ his mind screamed.

"It is for the best," was murmured lowly into his ear as they walked.

"What would you know?" he spat, stiffening when Red Skull's hand stilled him with an angry hold. "I-I-"

Sharp cut off with his hand. "I know a lot of things. Being different teaches you many lessons,"

"Because being..._different_ is the same as being evil,"

"Of course not," he scoffed. "You and I are nothing alike-except, that is, how we are treated," he glanced slyly at Bucky.

"What-what do you mean? You can't possibly say that-"

"But I do," he crowed with a smirk. "You see, your so-called friends only like the you you pretend to be. But if you stop pretending, they'll treat you like a freak. They'll treat you like me; hunt you down like savages, without remorse or hesitation and they won't stop until you beat them all. You have to gain the power to destroy them by any means necessary before they destroy you. Crush them like ants before they _ever_ get a chance to hurt you-" he cut himself off abruptly, but did not visibly project any emotional conflict that would have caused it. If anything, he looked angrier, stricter.

"Is that what happened to you?" he asked softly.

"No, that is _not_ what happened to me! I've been hungry and sadistic to the core since I was young," he snapped and Bucky flinched. There was a cold, angry silence of hot breaths.

"But-" he picked his head up as Schmidt continued hesitantly. "There was a girl that I would have pretended for. All of it, I would have hid all of it and make it my deep, dark secret for her,"

"What was she like?" he asked, feeling slightly guilty.

"Beautiful," he crooned, looking much softer. "A dark raven with a tactical mind almost as good as my own. And underneath her fragile face, a cut-throat viciousness that still warms my departed heart. Oh, Peggy, how you spurned me so..."

His heart clenched. Peggy. Why did it have to be _Peggy_? He was already leaving Steve in the hands of this human-evil, yes, twisted, yes, but still human as it is abundantly clear now-man, why did they have to share normal-loves? Temptation brought on by fondness and absence. Was he to lose his heart completely? Life was too cruel.

"Listen, my son," Schmidt wiped the tears he didn't know he was shedding. It only made him want to cry more. Shame, that he was crying. Shame, that his enemy saw him cry. Shame, that his enemy was the one to comfort him. They continued their trek, Schmidt's hand on the small of your back, until they were outside the cockpit and in the presence of the pilot to take him...home. "It truly distresses me to see you in such pain, especially when there is no remedy I can make to fix it. The world in which I gave you life does not take kindly to your plight and I can hardly keep you here, in my own private world. It would break your heart to see what I must do to the Captain,"

"I'm afraid I'm already broken," he spoke, shaking.

"I see," he sighed. "If you find that that is not true, take this and join me. I will always welcome you, so long as it is not on opposite ends of the battlefield. There is no mercy in war, my son,"

"There is none in love, Father," he muttered, rolling his gift inside his pocket, freezing as he realised exactly what he said. Schmidt just smiled faintly.

"It is time," he said simply.

"Don't make me go yet," he begged, banking on the recent kindness he was showing just as Steve had made his way over.

"Will you grant me one last goodbye, my lord?" he rasped.

"What favours do I owe _you_?" Red Skull barked at the Captain.

"Please, let me say goodbye. Please...Master," Bucky saw the pleased glint over take his eyes just as his smile turned feral when Steve could not. His heart dropped.

"No." The door slammed shut.

* * *

He could tell that they knew something was off with his story. It was the way they stared. It made him feel cold.

They were right, of course, but he would never tell them that. Just like he hadn't told them about how exactly he came to be resurrected because even though they all know it wasn't humanely possible for him to survive that fall, no one's asking any questions. And he conveniently left out the part where Steve made him warm again-and any mention of exactly what Steve was doing up there that was stalling Red Skull's big strike. It hurt his heart to even think about.

Steve. Bucky missed him so much. And in an odd, twisted way, he missed Schmidt too. Even so, he was beyond grateful that their suspicions kept him away from secret meetings and midnight raids. He didn't want to risk getting caught on the battlefield. But, also, he didn't want to get caught on the battlefield questioning who was his enemy. Lately, that's all he had been doing.

"Sergeant, you're needed," Peggy. Damn her. "Come with me," He could fairly say he despised her just a little bit and she made it easy. She was the only one who remained overtly cautious and cold with him. Probably because her intuition could sense his hatred of her. But as he followed her into the board room, where Howard Stark managed to create a device that could reach Captain America on Red Skull's craft despite their distance, he completely forgot about anything else.

"Bucky? Bucky, are you there?" his voice crackled.

He ran to the microphone, hastily flipping the switch to allow two-way communication and ignoring everyone in the room that were waiting for some clue or update. "Yeah, Steve, I'm here," he laughed humourlessly, making the effortless change into a half-sob at the reality of the situation coming to hit him hard in the face. "Please don't do this, not to me,"

"It's a little too late for that. Everything's set in motion, I just need you to distract me from it all," Steve chuckled for the same reason.

Bucky swallowed. "What about-"

"Oh, well...I'm sorry, Bucky. That really couldn't be...helped,"

He closed his eyes tightly for a moment, drawing himself together with a deep breath, and cracked half a smile. "Yeah, I guess that's true, but, still, he-he..."

"I know, James, I know."

A pause. "We never got to say goodbye," he said brokenly soft.

"Hey, don't say that. We still have that date, remember?" he said with false cheer, but it still managed to clear some of the doom.

"Yeah, someone needs to teach you how to dance without stepping on anyone's toes," he joked.

"That's right," he murmured quietly, reassuringly.

"Promise you'll be there?"

"I promise. Bucky, I-I don't have much time left-"

"Don't say that!" he interrupted, begging desperately, trying to hang onto what little dignity he had. "Please don't say that, I love you, Steve," he broke down, finally giving name to the unspeakable feelings they had. "I love you, okay? You're the only thing that makes me feel warm anymore,"

"Bucky, I-"

Static. The radio microphone dropped from his hands without his notice. He didn't even blink until he felt Stark's words at his ear. "You should have told us, son," he said. "I-I'm sorry for your loss,"

"No," he shook his head. "I can't believe that. Steve's all I have left," Howard nodded in sympathetic understanding, patting him once and escorting everyone out.

Bucky stared at the vile he carried with him always, Schmidt's gift to him, turning it over in his hand thoughtfully. Steve. Warmth forever if only he could find it. He squeeze the cylinder container hard enough to crack open and dribble the dark insides out.

* * *

"I had a date," he said to himself mostly.

A car door shuts. "You mean with me?"

"Bucky?" A man-Bucky-stepped out and Steve turned to him, a great big grin blooming on his face. "Oh, God, it's really you!" he whooped, laughing, scooping him into his arms and kissing him before he could help himself.

Buckly sighed happily, finally feeling warm after all these years of waiting. "Mm, I missed you," he told him, resting their foreheads together. "You were late for our date, you know, I had to go out and find a new dance partner," he teased.

"Is that so?" he smiled brightly, calling him out on his lie.

"Yes. Howard was very kind to me and so is his son, Tony," he sobered. "It was hard without you, Steve,"

"You seem different," he noted, fingering a mark by Bucky's left eye. "You have scars from-"

"It was hard without you," he repeated firmly, a harder look in his eyes. "Especially when I no longer danced with women,"

"But now?" he gestured to the new world around them.

"Now?" Bucky's little curl came back, drawing out his goofy smile. Same old Bucky, same old Steve.

"Now everything's _perfect_."

**A/N: This is more of a character-study of certain aspects of a few characters and a commentary on gay history, as I'm sure you noticed. I tried to explain and humanize Schmidt, because we have to remember he was one and had a darkness inside him that the serum enhanced which is while they were looking for someone like Steve to be Captain America, and slyly mentioned the unfair world we (the LGBTQ) community still faces even if it has gotten a lot better. So, thank you for listening/reading this little bit of me on a soapbox. **

**Also, the vile was full of Schmidt's blood, in case you wanted to know XD It works like an injection of the serum, and since that includes almost regeneration of cells, the aging process slowed, so technically Steve looks something like a 21 year old while Bucky's getting onto mid-30s (or as young as Steve is if you want to believe that, maybe he asked to be put to sleep cryogenically and only woken up when he was found by SHEILD which would explain why they gave him a ride, too) Anyhow, that's how I explain his ability to still, you know, be alive. If they can use it in the comics, why can't I?  
**


End file.
